


Six Feet Under

by SpecterQueen



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Graphic Description, M/M, death & dying, mortician au, six feet under AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 06:38:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7303573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpecterQueen/pseuds/SpecterQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six Feet Under AU | Han Solo has passed away and the prodigal son has reluctantly returned to the Skywalker-Solo Funeral Home. Ben is thrown into a world he never wanted to be a part of and struggles to adapt. Almost immediately, he finds himself falling for Hux, the handsome new associate at his family’s business. Many secrets come to the surface the longer Ben stays, and he wonders how well he truly knew his father or family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Feet Under

**Author's Note:**

> Epilogue:
> 
> The reception room bustled with finely dressed mourners attending the wake. Large arrangements of multicolored flowers adorned the casket and spilled abundantly into the surrounding areas. Some people sat on the various seats and couches sipping offered tea from fancy cups with saucers. Most chatted in muted voices adding a din of soft noise to the room. 
> 
> “You’ve done a nice job,” said the old man, Mr. Davis, of his deceased wife. “She looks peaceful.”
> 
> Poe shifted his gaze from the open casket to the man standing beside him. “Well, she is at peace now,” he said.
> 
> “If there’s any justice in the universe, she’s shoveling shit in hell,” said Mr. Davis frankly.
> 
> Only very mildly shocked, Poe opened his mouth to respond. Muffled sounds of crashing and yelling from above suddenly cut through large room, drawing many eyes upward. He furrowed his brows in concern.
> 
> “Excuse me,” he said to Mr. Davis and rushed out of the room. 
> 
> Poe ran through the foyer and up the stairs that led to the portion of the spacious, old house his family lived in. He came to a halt in the kitchen gazing around confused at the food, dishes, and cutlery scattered haphazardly around the room. His adoptive mother sat on the floor next to the stove, hugging her knees to her chest.
> 
> “What the hell?” he uttered.
> 
> “There’s been an accident,” she said staring blankly ahead. “The new hearse is totaled. Your father is dead. Your father is dead and dinner is ruined.”
> 
> “Oh my god…” Poe breathed out the phrase quietly. “What…what about Ben?”

 

 

Ben Solo-Skywalker checked his watch again. His flight had arrived on time but his father was still nowhere to be seen. Try as he may to avoid it, his mother had successfully guilt tripped him into attending yet another Skywalker-Solo family reunion they held annually in the summer. The south was always oppressively hot and humid during that time of year, but he supposed being near the coast helped. Maybe he would actually get around to going to the beach for a change. It was surprisingly easy to take for granted when it was mere minutes away.

He was about to call someone to ask for a ride when he saw a familiar, tall, blonde striding towards him. A smile spread across his face as he grabbed his bag and hurried towards her.

“Gwen!” he called out drawing her attention.

Ben embraced his longtime friend, Gwen Phasma, still marveling that they were both roughly the same height of over six feet. Her stature had been one of the many things that had enchanted him during their youth as he foolishly chased after her. He wanted to hold her longer, but she pulled away and stared at him with a serious and concerned expression. It felt off.

“What is it?” he asked still gripping her arms.

“There’s been an accident,” said Gwen. “Your father…I need to take you to the hospital.”

“What happened? Is dad hurt?” He unconsciously grasped her arms more tightly, searched her blue eyes intently.

She glanced down, then back up. “Ben…your father’s dead. We need to go now. Your mother needs you.”

Ben’s stomach sunk at the news, a chill sweeping down his body in a sickening wave. The room seemed to shrink around him as his mind struggled to process the information. Suddenly, his nerves felt like they were lit on fire and his hands dropped from Gwen’s arms refusing to obey any further commands. He opened his mouth to say something -anything- in response but words failed him.

“Come on, love,” she said gently taking his hand and leading him through the airport. “I’m sorry but we don’t have the luxury of time right now.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They arrived at the hospital and Ben let his feet take him mechanically down the path to the morgue. His father had dragged him along enough times that he knew exactly where he was going. And as usual, his feet stopped short of the entrance, though this time it had more to do with his mother and cousin sitting outside of it than reluctance to enter.

His mother, Leia Skywalker, appeared dazed and slightly disheveled. Her hair was mussed, eyes puffy and red from crying. When she caught sight of him, she immediately rose from her seat and reached up to hug him. Ben returned the embrace silently and she clung to him, stifling a small sob into his shirt. He looked up and met the eyes of his cousin, who managed to look stern even in her grief-stricken state.

“Ms. Skywalker,” spoke an attendant poking his head through the nearby doors. “I need you to identify the body.”

Leia pulled away from Ben and shook her head. “I can’t,” she said. “I’ve seen too many dead people. They’re work. I won’t see your father that way. I need you to do it.”

Ben swallowed thickly. “Sure thing, mom,” he said despite his rising panic. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Leave it to me.”

“Thank you, Ben.” She sat down and covered her face with a hand. Gwen approached her to offer comfort.

As he walked by his cousin, she shot out a hand grasping his arm in an amazingly strong grip. He could not recall ever seeing her look so distressed.

“Rey, where the hell is Uncle Luke? Why do I have to be the one to do this?” he demanded in an agitated whisper.

“Dad’s out of town,” answered Rey equally as quiet. “I couldn’t even get a hold of him. He’s going to be devastated.”

“I hope his damn trip was important because…because…” he faltered, cast his worried gaze away. “I…don’t know if I can do this.”

“Look at me,” said Rey, but did not wait for him to do so, simply forcing his face towards hers impatiently. “You can do this, Ben. It’s not going to be easy, but I know you can handle it.”

Ben nodded. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, opened them again, and resolutely walked into the morgue. The florescent lights burned intensely bright, illuminating every clinically sterile surface sharply. The attendant in the lab coat waved him over to the wall of body lockers. He had barely made it to them before the man opened a locker at waist level and pulled out a tray containing a body bag. The man unzipped the bag only far enough to reveal the corpse’s face, then looked up at Ben expectantly.

There he was. His father, Han Solo, lay in the white bag, pallid and lifeless, neck broken and face lacerated by the shattered glass from the wrecked hearse. The cuts were numerous and varied in size, some jagged, some even. Even though he looked absolutely, horrendously awful, Ben still expected him to open his eyes and sit up at any moment, tell him it was all some cruel joke. It was such a strong expectation that when he glanced up he startled to see his father appearing very much alive, standing in front of him dressed in the attendant’s clothes.

“Well, well. The prodigal returns,” said Han with a characteristic, smug smile.

Ben gaped at him openly, once again at a loss for words. Maybe he was going insane.

“This is what you’ve been running away from your whole life, buddy boy,” continued Han placing his hands next to his own dead body. “Scared the crap out of you when you were growing up, didn’t it? And you tried to escape, but guess what? Nobody escapes.”

“Well?” asked the attendant, suddenly himself again.

Ben cleared his throat, hoping his voice would not crack as he spoke. “Yeah. That’s him.”

When he reemerged into the hall, Leia perked up quickly. “How did he look?” she asked.

“Dead,” he said simply, still stunned.

“Will there need to be a lot of reconstruction?” she persisted. “Poe’s not that skilled at the really hard stuff. Hux usually does that. He’s quite gifted…”

“Who’s Hux?” asked Ben confused.

“The new person we hired last year,” said Leia. “Your brother was so overwhelmed with work, and your father and uncle were…well, you know how they tend to be. We needed some reliable help and he’s even willing to come in on holidays…”

“Okay, I get it, he’s good,” said Ben finally glancing around. “Where’s Gwen?”

“Oh, she left,” said Leia. “Rey will drive us home. Wait…you don’t think we’ll have to have a closed casket, do you? I would hate to send that message.”

“What message?” asked Ben. It seemed he was full of questions lately.

“That we can’t handle a major restoration, or that we’re not proud of our work!” she answered sounding frantic, edging on hysterical.

“Aunt Leia, can we talk about this later?” said Rey urging the woman to her feet. “We should get Ben home. I’m sure he’s exhausted.”

“Alright, dear,” agreed Leia allowing herself to be tugged to her feet and led down the hall.

Ben scrubbed a hand over his face, sighed, and slowly followed.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Ben tentatively peeked around the door of the preparation room. It wasn’t in a basement, since their state did not frequently allow for such a thing, but it was set as far into the ground as regulation would allow. It was dark, damp, creepy, and the scariest place in the massive house. Logically, his ten year old mind knew there was nothing to fear from the dead. Illogically, he had also seen far too many zombie movies courtesy of his sneaky dad.

He spied his father dressed in bellbottom pants and a patterned shirt, covered by a plastic apron. His gloved hands worked at massaging the limbs of a body on the table, cigarette dangling precariously from his lips. As if sensing somebody was watching him, he glanced up.

“Hey there, buddy boy,” said Han waving his son over. “Come say hello to Mr. Sullivan.”

Ben edged into the room hesitantly, approaching the table slowly.

“Nothing to be afraid of,” said Han retrieving his ashtray and setting it atop the body. He tapped his ashes into it. “I’m just getting Mr. Sullivan ready to see his family one last time. It’ll make them feel better.”

He did not understand why seeing such a ghastly sight would make anyone feel better. Of course, he knew that the body would look better, polished, by the time it graced a casket in the reception room. His mom had told him on several occasions that his dad was a very gifted restorative artist. Whatever that meant. It all made no sense, and he constantly puzzled over his father and uncle’s frightening choice of profession.

“Do you want to touch him?” asked Han leaning over the body and extending a pair of gloves to Ben. “You can if you wear these. Believe me, he won’t care.”

Before Ben could offer a terrified response, his uncle breezed into the room past him carrying a box and thankfully distracted his father.

The memory fizzled out in Ben’s mind, leaving him standing in practically the same spot in the preparation room as he had all those years ago. Only this time he was an adult, and Mr. Sullivan was not the body lying on the table before him. It was his father’s remains, naked save for a cloth draped over his pelvis, still looking marred, hues of purple and blue seeping through the ashen, waxy skin.

A tall, slender man suddenly strode gracefully into view carrying a Polaroid camera. He wore a casual business outfit covered by a plastic apron, latex gloves, a face mask with shield, and seemed oblivious to Ben’s presence. Hunching over Han’s face, the man snapped a picture with the old camera, instantly retrieving and shaking the film it spit out. When he brought the picture up to study it, he noticed Ben standing in the distance, awkwardly staring at him.

“Who are you?” he asked tugging down his mask. “You shouldn’t be down here.”

Ben meant to answer him, but was stunned silent by how incredibly attractive he found the man now that he could see his entire face. The first thing that drew his attention was his red hair, ever so slightly grown out from a recent cut yet immaculately styled. He had a beautifully sloped nose, defined cheek bones, and keen blue eyes that flashed as they caught the overhead light.

“I…I’m Ben,” he finally managed to stutter out. “That’s…um, that’s my…dad,” he finished weakly, gesturing towards the table.

“Oh,” he said having the decency to appear shocked. “I’m sorry for your loss. Your father was…an interesting man.”

“That’s one way to put it,” laughed Ben. “Did you know him well?”

“Not really. A year is hardly adequate time to get to know someone, plus he was frequently absent,” answered the man setting the Polaroid and photo aside. He walked over to Ben and offered a hand. “I’m Hux, by the way. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise,” said Ben shaking Hux’s gloved hand. He was admittedly dazzled by the man’s good manners. “So…uh, do you have a first name? Or is Hux it?”

“How’s it going in here?” asked Poe entering the room with a clipboard in hand and dressed appropriately in a suit. He saw Ben and stopped short, his eyes going to his and Hux’s yet connected hands.

Hux yanked his hand free with an irritated glare. “I was just about to start prepping Mr. Solo,” he said as he retied the mask onto his face.

“Good, thanks, Hux,” said Poe setting his clipboard aside and putting on an apron. “Hey, Ben, sorry we don’t have time to catch up now. I promise we’ll talk later, okay?”

“No problem,” said Ben averting his gaze as Poe and Ben started to assemble supplies, including the frightening trocar. He started to feel queasy and wasn’t sure if it was from lack of food or his dislike of the embalming process. “I have to go,” he said before spinning around and rushing out of the room.

He nearly tripped on the stairs as he made his way to the foyer. The cavernous house was silent as he snatched up his bag and made his way to his old bedroom. He was told he would always have a place at home, but never really considered returning. Infrequently attending the family reunions was enough. Tossing his bag onto the floor, he noted that not a single item in his room was out of place.

He barely had a chance to tug off his clothes before exhaustion settled heavily upon him. Any thought of getting something to eat was abandoned as he readily collapsed onto his bed. He fell asleep quickly, slumber mercifully devoid of dreams.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next day seemed to pass by in a surreal haze. Ben awoke feeling drained and famished, ate a quick breakfast with his mother and cousin, then went for a morning jog. After he returned, and before he could shower, Poe pulled him aside for a lengthy conversation. He spoke of important events from the prior year in business, details of their father’s lethal accident -including the number of the bus that had struck the hearse, and a bit of gushing about his new boyfriend at the end. When Poe asked him how it was going up in Providence, Ben merely shrugged and said it was okay. He did not want to mention that he was barely making ends meet, lived in a rundown apartment, and could not maintain a relationship for longer than a month.

Since he was busy with all of the last minute arrangements for the wake and funeral, Poe apologized before hurrying off to his office. Ben took a long shower after that, put on a band shirt and jeans, then wandered around the house aimlessly. It felt infinitely wrong that his dad was not there to pester him. Honestly, it had always annoyed the hell out of him when the frequently absent man would try to play father of the year. Now that he was truly gone, he desperately wanted it back.

He blinked a few times before realizing he had wandered back to the preparation room, as if drawn there by morbid curiosity or instinct. Thankfully, there were no bodies on the tables, only clean, empty porcelain surfaces. The room was dim, the small windows near the ceiling only letting in vague sunlight. He jolted in surprised when he heard a thump and shuffling nearby.

“Ah, it’s you again,” said Hux emerging from the freezer. He was still dressed in stylish clothes, but more casual and sans the apron.

“Yeah…I just…ended up here. Somehow,” said Ben absently pushing the damp hair from his eyes.

Hux approached him adjusting his rolled up sleeves. His expression seemed softer than it did the previous day. “How are you handling it?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” sighed Ben. “Bad? Better than expected? It doesn’t really matter.”

“Of course it does,” said Hux. “Going through the stages of grief is very important in the acceptance of death.”

“Wow, are you a shrink too?” asked Ben with a hint of distaste.

“No, god, no,” retorted Hux looking offended. “Both my parents are.”

Ben chuckled. “Well, I’m sure that was an interesting environment to grow up in.”

“You have no idea,” said Hux taking a step closer, invading Ben’s personal space. He placed a hand on his shoulder, slid it down to his arm, and then started to lightly massage it.

“What are you-”

“Grief counseling. Touch is essential in comforting people. If there’s anything I can do to help you in these troubling times,” said Hux staring intently into his eyes, “anything at all…please, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Ben let out an unsteady breath as his heart sped up. Was he just trying to be friendly and show concern? Or was he hinting at something else? Part of him wanted to flat out ask what Hux meant. The other part was worried he would ruin the potential mood. Under normal circumstances he would definitely be more assertive. Currently, he was floundering.

Hux waited a moment, then let his hand drop. He turned to walk away.

“Wait!” Ben blurted out, abruptly grabbing his arm and jerking him back towards him. “I…I do need something.”

“Hm? What is it?” asked Hux almost sounding bored.

“A distraction,” said Ben, and it was so honest it hurt. “I need a distraction right now.”

“Right now?”

Ben nodded. A heartbeat passed before he was suddenly tugged deeper into the large room, towards the back, and into a small office that was seldom used. Hux shut the door behind them and advanced on Ben until he backed him up against an old, dusty, wooden desk. He placed his hands on Ben’s chest and hovered over him, leaning in tantalizingly close. Every breath Hux let out, Ben took in. He did not dare to move, eager to see what Hux’s next move would be. After a brief pause laden with anticipation, Hux let his pelvis drop heavily against Ben’s while tilting his head to avoid searching lips. Ben gasped as his hands went instinctively to grip narrow hips.

“So…how long are you going to be in town?” asked Hux casually as he began to grind against Ben, moving his hands across his chest with a pleased hum.

“I’m not sure anymore,” answered Ben enthusiastically bucking up while keeping a firm hold on slender hips. He leaned forward trying to kiss Hux again but was evaded. He settled for sucking on the man’s pale neck.

“Be careful! Don’t leave marks!” hissed Hux. He splayed a hand across Ben’s face and pushed his head away.

Ben chuckled and Hux smirked as he withdrew his hand and started to pick open the buttons of his shirt. Swatted his hands away, Ben finished opening the shirt, pushing the fabric aside to briefly run a large hand over the smooth skin beneath. Hux’s chest was not defined or muscled, but rather svelte, lending to his willowy appearance. He ducked his head down, kissed the flesh sloppily in his haste, marveling at how soft it felt under his lips.

Hux let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan, hooked a hand around the back of Ben’s neck, threading his fingers into his dark curls. He tried to shrug out of his shirt unsuccessfully, eventually resorting to reluctantly pulling away. Ben took the hint and discarded both of their shirts quickly. He eagerly gathered Hux back into his arms and seized the opportunity to kiss him while he was distracted.

Initially, Hux tensed against him, but that did not stop him from kissing back. He soon relaxed into it and even opened his mouth to grant access to Ben’s searching tongue. The kiss was passionate, edging on desperate, and Ben struggled to maintain control of himself. His cock was so hard it ached, and he jumped slightly when he felt Hux palming it through his jeans before opening the fly. He roughly tugged his pants down enough to free his erection, then let out a low whistle.

“Impressive,” he said, gasping as Ben brazenly started opening his belt and the front of his slacks.

“How about that,” said Ben sliding his hand under the waistband of Hux’s boxers to skirt his length. “You’re hard too.”

“Of…course I am,” said Hux before biting his bottom lip, “but it’s not necessary to- ah!”

Yanking Hux closer, Ben impatiently pushed down his slacks and wrapped his hand around both of their exposed cocks. He set a vigorous pace, shifting his focus up to Hux’s face. All semblance of composure was gone from his expression leaving it open and lustful. Ben watched as his eyes fell shut, lashes creating nearly transparent fans on his cheeks, and his lovely bowed lips parted to let out panting breaths. It was sexy and alluring in all the right ways and he did not think he was going to last long.

When Hux started to grope at his chest, flicking finger tips over his nipples, and then roaming down to his abs and back to his pectorals again, Ben faltered. He let out a strangled curse and quickened the pace. Hux suddenly covered his mouth to stifle a loud moan. A few more followed and Ben wanted nothing more than to rip that offending hand away and hear the obscene noises that escaped at full volume. However, considering their situation, he restrained himself and continued to pump them.

Hux came first, bucking his hips up sharply and spilling warmly onto Ben’s chest and hand. He let out several cries that he failed to suppress, followed by a shuddering moan. The erotic display pushed Ben over the edge and his orgasm was surprisingly intense, managing to soil both of their chests. As quickly as the pleasure spiked, it subsided, leaving him weak in the knees. He sighed, pulled Hux’s head forward to rest on his chest, idly massaging the back of his neck.

“Did it work?” mumbled Hux against his sweaty skin.

“Hmm? Did what work?”

Hux pushed himself back, looked at Ben, searching his eyes. “The distraction. Did I offer an adequate distraction?”

Ben chuckled, kissed Hux briefly before he could protest. “Absolutely! It was more than adequate, it was fantastic. Thank you.”

“Good, I’m glad,” said Hux stepping away from Ben and holding his falling slacks up. He absently touched the sticky mess on his chest and looked around for something to clean it with.

“Here,” said Ben offering his t-shirt since there was no other cloth in sight. When Hux eyed it apologetically, he laughed. “It’s okay, go ahead. It’s not uncommon for me to walk around home shirtless, nobody will care.”

Hux took the t-shirt and cleaned himself before handing it back to Ben. He stared shamelessly at Hux as he redressed himself, particularly fixated on the wonderful jut of his hipbones before he pulled his pants up. He was fully dressed while Ben leaned against the desk ineffectively wiping at his body. With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Hux snatched the shirt away from Ben, properly cleaning him to the best of his ability. He even helped him tug his pants back into place and fasten them.

His hands lingered on Ben’s jeans after he buttoned them. “I sincerely hope you gained some benefit from my counseling,” he said sounding completely serious. “If you require more in the future, please don’t hesitate to call me. It would be nice if we could have a more…in depth session.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Ben, “but I don’t have your number…or know your full name for that matter.”

Hux magically produced a business card and pressed it into Ben’s hand. “I’ll see you at the service tomorrow. Goodbye, Ben,” he said letting a small smile grace his features, and then left the office.

Ben stared at the open door for a moment, still in a bit of a relaxed daze. He had had plenty of casual sexual encounters in his life, but as cliché as it sounded the one with Hux felt different, unique somehow. Quite possibly, it was also just a natural reaction to being close to someone during a tragedy. Only time would tell. What little time they had. His eyes eventually drifted down to the card in his hand and he read the name on it out loud.

“Alistair Hux. Funeral Director.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The morning of Han Solo’s funeral dawned clear and bright as if the heavens themselves were honoring the requiem of such a resplendent soul. The viewing was held early and many mourners arrived to pay their respects prior to the burial service. It dragged on for a couple hours and Ben could barely keep his eyes open from his position seated comfortably on a random couch. He had already seen his father, reposed stiffly in his coffin, surrounded by silk lining and trinkets from a life well-lived.

During presumably the second hour or so, Leia made her appearance, dressed in a simple but fashionable black dress. Poe and Rey accompanied her to the casket, keeping a vigil at either side of her. Within a minute she broke down into quiet sobs, tried to slump over the body of her deceased life partner. Poe expertly caught her and Ben wondered how often he had to do that in his line of work. As Leia continued to degrade into louder sobs, Poe rushed her off to a room beyond a curtain.

Rey caught sight of him and walked towards the couch, tossing a sad glance back towards the secret room.

“What was that? She’s so sad they have to get her out of sight?” asked Ben as Rey plopped down on the couch next to him.

“We always do that,” said Rey dismissively. “It makes the other people uncomfortable.”

“This is not about the other people!” he shouted, suddenly angry. The concept of proper mourning etiquette appalled him.

“Keep your voice down,” ordered Rey sitting up straighter as people started staring at them. “You know if you were around more, maybe all of this wouldn’t seem so weird…”

“Where is he?!” came another loud voice, effectively redirecting everyone’s attention to the entrance of the reception room.

There stood Luke Skywalker, dressed in a casual suit, travel bag still in hand. His hair was windblown, his cheeks pink, and his blue eyes wild. Rey practically vaulted out of her seat, nearly running into a few people as she hastened towards him.

“Dad! You made it!” she said hugging him.

“Made it…” Luke repeated weakly, returning the hug. He looked past her to the far end of the room. “Is…is that…is he…” His wavering voice trailed off.

Rey pulled away, pried the bag from her father’s hand and set it aside. “Come on, I’ll take you to him.”

Ben rose to his feet and met them halfway. His Uncle Luke had always been one of his favorite people in the family and he was concerned for his reaction. It was no secret to anyone with two eyes and half a brain that his uncle and father were extremely close. His parent’s had had a unique relationship and had never gotten married, insisting they would much rather leave legalities out of their love life. They were devoted to each other, however, and Luke had almost always lived with them on their insistence that the house was simply too large not to have him, even as it started to fill with children.

Luke noticed Ben’s hulking presence next to him as they walked and tossed him a look that was bordering on panicked. Ben placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and soon they were standing before the casket. Luke’s eyes settled upon the body within and fixated, disbelieving hope dashed by the sight before him. His hand rested on the dark polished wood and silk lining of its side, absently caressing it. He let out a pained sigh.

“This is cruel,” Luke whispered, tears slipping unbidden from his eyes. “I…wondered why he didn’t call back that day.”

“Dad…”

“He…he looks good,” said Luke approvingly, then sniffled. “I hope…Poe didn’t have to work on him…I…” His voice cut off on a sob, and more followed.

That was the cue for Rey to hurry him off to the ridiculous room. At least he could mourn privately with his sister, Ben thought. He looked around, staunchly avoided another glance at the casket. When he saw Hux standing against a distant wall, he started making his way over to him, and ran into a distracted police officer.

“Ah, sorry, man,” said the officer steadying Ben with a sure grip on either arm.

“Is there a problem, officer?” asked Ben, belatedly registering he had grasped the man’s smooth, muscular forearms when he had stumbled. He blushed slightly and withdrew them.

“No, no…” said the man shaking his head. “I just got off duty. I came to pay my respects to your father.”

“How do you know-“

“You’re Ben, right?” asked the officer flashing a brilliant smile and offering a hand. “The name’s Finn. Poe’s told me a lot about you.”

Ben took the offered hand and shook it, momentarily dazzled by the man he now realized was Poe’s new boyfriend. “Nice to meet you,” he said, then as an afterthought wondered how much information Poe had shared about him.

“There he is!” Finn suddenly exclaimed looking past Ben. He gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Sorry about your loss. I’m sure we’ll see each other around.” That said he rushed off to Poe as he wandered away from the mourning room.

Ben watched them embrace before turning to locate Hux once again. He was frustratingly absent. After searching the room for a good fifteen minutes, he gave up. The burial service was going to start soon anyways.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The cortege to the cemetery was brief, and thankfully the shade of a stately, gnarled live oak offered much needed shade in the stifling summer heat. Roughly a quarter of the people that attended the viewing arrived for the burial service. They gathered solemnly around the adorned coffin suspended above a stone crypt buried within the earth. The Skywalkers and Solos stood at the front line looking haggard and weary.

“Of whom may we seek for succor, but of thee, O Lord? Who for our sins are justly displease?” spoke an Episcopal priest reading from a book of common prayers. “Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts. Shut not thy merciful ear to our prayer; but spare us, Lord most holy, O God most mighty.”

Ben tried not to roll his eyes. His father had never been a big fan of the church. Or any organized religion for that matter. “Mom,” he whispered leaning down to the distraught woman at his side.

“O holy and merciful Savior, thou most worthy Judge eternal…”

“What is it, honey?” she asked unable to pry her eyes from the casket before her.

“Why the priest?” he asked quietly. “I don’t think dad would’ve approved.”

“I know,” she said sparing him an apologetic glance. “Unfortunately, we have to keep up appearances. Especially now.”

“Seriously?” he said a touch too loudly. Nobody seemed to notice. “What kind of business is this?”

“Suffer us not, at our last hour, through any pains of death, to fall from thee,” continued the priest.

The casket started to slowly lower into the ground.

“In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our brother Han Solo, and we commit his body to the ground,” finished the priest. He moved forward, grabbed a handful of earth, and sprinkled it onto the coffin, now settled to full rest within its tomb.

The family members then all queued up to grab a fistful of dirt and throw it down onto the coffin. Ben had always found this practice to be particularly bizarre, and definitely more akin to some ancient ritual than modern tradition. He participated anyway, watching morosely as his mother and uncle wept softly during the act. The priest spoke some parting words he paid no attention to and the service was finished.

A dreadful sense of finality descended upon him.

His family and the guests began to wander away gradually. He probably would have stayed, rooted to his position, if he had not glanced Hux in the distance. The man was looking directly at him, offering nothing but a stoic expression. As he averted his eyes and turned to leave, Ben felt his body moving forward before he could even command it to do so.

“Hux!” he called out as he jogged up beside him, a little perturbed that he did not even bother to slow down.

“How are you, Ben?” asked Hux, hands shoved casually in his pockets. His hair had ruffled out of its neat style and looked amazing.

“Great, couldn’t be better,” said Ben sarcastically. Sometimes he hated formalities. “Listen…I just wanted to say thanks again.”

“For what?”

“Everything,” said Ben gesturing vaguely. “For helping with dad so Poe didn’t have to do it alone. For helping me feel a little more human yesterday.”

“It’s just part of my job,” shrugged Hux presenting a gentle smile.

“Sure, and just how often do you ‘counsel’ people in the back office like you did with me?” inquired Ben.

Hux had the decency to blush and chuckle at the question. “You were a special case,” he said finally coming to a stop amidst random tombstones. “I’m not sure why, but I like you, Ben. Maybe I’m one of those men who meets a person who seems emotionally conflicted and has no relationship skills and I figure, hey, that’s for me.”

“Uh…you know I don’t even live here, right? I live in Rhode Island.”

“See, that just makes you more attractive,” confessed Hux.

“Really?” said Ben smiling. “Maybe we should go on a date or something then, before we have any more, um…counseling sessions.”

“That sounds nice,” said Hux as he raked his eyes up and down Ben’s form. “You look fucking fantastic in a suit, by the way.”

“Thanks. I’ve been told I clean up pretty well,” said Ben.

“You most certainly do,” agreed Hux. He stepped forward and placed a hand on Ben’s arm. “Go spend some time with your family. I’ll see you again soon.”

Ben nodded, every instinct in his body imploring him to lean down the short distance and kiss the man in front of him. He even had the audacity to try, but Hux stepped to the side evading him with a playful smirk. He waved briefly before turning and walking away. Ben did not turn to leave himself until Hux’s lean form disappeared from sight.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Music lilted into his dream tugging his mind swiftly to consciousness. Ben opened his eyes reluctantly leaving behind a tender scene from his youth as he turned off the alarm beside his bed. It had been an old memory of playing with his father and brother on the front yard as his mother and uncle serenely watched from a distance on the porch. It was obscure and insignificant yet somehow deeply profound. The mood was carefree and genuinely joyful, reflecting a rare moment when everyone had managed to gather and enjoy themselves outside of a planned event. Easy and pleasant. Definitely a moment to be cherished. He had not thought of it in a long time.

The walk to the kitchen was nostalgic, and he almost felt like a child again as he sat at the sturdy table his parents had purchased in the 70’s. Glancing around, he noted that most of the furniture and trinkets yet remained so many years later, a consistent reminder of a well-loved and lived in home. Renovations surely would have cheapened it and nobody had ever really considered them. His mother breezed into the room smiling at him as she passed to the coffee maker.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” said Leia pulling out a couple mugs. She poured coffee into each and brought them to the table, sitting beside Ben.

“Thanks, mom,” he said taking the offered cup and drinking it black.

“Ben?”

“Yeah?”

Leia hesitated as she dumped another spoonful of sugar into her cup and stirred it absently. “You don’t have to go back to Providence soon, do you?”

“Not really,” he said watching as her face flooded with relief. “I can make some calls.”

“Thank you,” she said smiling softly. “Just…just for a little while.”

“Okay.”

Ben went for his routine morning jog. His path brought him winding down many a random street. As he paused at an intersection, he swore he saw his father sitting at a bus stop across the street, dressed every bit the casual scoundrel he was. The large vehicle pulled to a stop and Han boarded with the other passengers taking a seat by a window. Before the bus drove away, Han noticed him, smiled and waved.

Ben laughed, folded his long limbs inward as he crouched down, and cried.

 

 

 

FADE TO BLACK

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this because I LOVED writing it! Six Feet Under is one of my favorite shows of all time and I'm very excited to explore it with these guys. *vibrates* I took a lot of dialogue for this chapter directly from the pilot's script. In future chapters I will more than likely deviate from the show's plot since writing the whole thing from it would take FOREVER. I do want to kind of follow it a bit, though, since it was brilliant.
> 
> Thank you for reading and comments are always appreciated!


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